Diary of a Moisture Farmer
by MsLanna
Summary: What the title says. Set in the time of the originals. OCs only. I write it to amuse myself and keep writing fun. Monthly updates as the daily ones are sure too short to warrant seperat posts.
1. Chapter 1

Woke up in the middle of the night because it was 30 degrees. Frigging winter. Got up to get another blanket. It was full of sand. Gritted my teeth and went back to sleep.

* * *

My only droid broke down today. Sand in the joints. Had to bring it to Toshe station for maintenance. I really should get myself my own repair shop. Still feels like overkill for one droid. Maybe I'll change my mind when I see the bill.

* * *

Saw the bill and changed my mind immediately. Excavations for the building begin tomorrow. Invited Dak, Hel and Ty. They'll help for a few cups of blue milk moonshine. Good thing the distillation is still working. Got sand in the moonshine, though. Will need to filter it out before I can serve that to anybody.

* * *

Dug a frigging big hole today. Won't be able to work in it tomorrow because the moonshine shone real strong and I'll be glad if I can walk upright. And there I thought I could do a control walk around the western slope. Oh well, shine on.

* * *

Crawled on patrol around the western slope anyway. The evaporator gave the strangest readings. Couldn't find out why, will need a translator. Also painkillers. Painkillers are friends. Fell into the frelling big hole on my way home. Not so sure about the workshop again.

* * *

Got my droid back and the evaporator on the western slope fixed. Asked the droid its opinion about the workshop. Got only beeps and warbling in reply. Not very promising. Dug some more hole for lack of something else to do. Maybe I need a hobby. Sand sculptures sound likely, or making glass. Too lazy to look into either, though.

* * *

Invited Ty and Hel over to check the progress and the latest batch of moonshine. Both built their own workshops so they should know what to do next. Things went went until they started babbling about setting up moulds and kinds of duracrete and what that would cost and who would help and which company helped them back in the day.

Gave them moonshine until they shut up. Put the project on ice because finances.

* * *

Got my request to declare my taxes today. Definitely no workshop within the next months. Will likely need to upgrade the unit on the northern border. How do you you even increase your crop on a dustball like this? Heard the Lars' got new units that have a ten percent higher output. Maybe I should visit them. But then they just lost another of their lads to the academy. Wonder how long they can hold young Luke.

* * *

Had to replace half the units on the northern border because their output wasn't actually low, they were just running on half capacity because sand. I need to keep a closer eye on my equipment. Instead of getting a hobby, I might have to get rid of my laziness. But there is really not that much to do. If you don't count removing sand from your things. Didn't remove enough of it from the kitchen and had sand on my dinner. Way to go.

* * *

The units on the northern border are working fine now. Patrolled the other units and everything is shiny. Put up the distillation for more moonshine. Dak will marry soon and he will expect some kind of party.

Complained to the tax office about the impossible form. They told me it was new regulations from the Empire. Frag the Empire. Are they even filling in the stuff they send us? I think not.

* * *

Paid my tax and since I was in a bad mood already got wasted in Mos Eisley. Had to call Ty to give me a ride home. Still can't remember where I parked my speeder.

* * *

Got a parking ticket because the Empire found my speeder. Seems I left it right in front of the cantina on the middle of the street and it had to be towed away. Just my luck. Started filling in the hole for the workshop because I fell into it again when I returned from Mos Eisley. Can't afford to have anything built for a while anyway. And moving around sand might count as a hobby.

* * *

Brought the scrap from repairing the northern units to the Toshe Station. Didn't get much for it. Started planning Dak's stag night with Ty. Bryenne will take the girls to Bestine. So we will stay in Mos Eisley. I don't think we'll mind after the first rounds of drinks. Got some plum syrup to flavour the moonshine with. Weddings are special after all.

* * *

Fireworks were a bit early for the wedding today. Whatever that was, it didn't last long either. Maybe there'll be something in the news. Something that's not as predicable as the weather or the bar brawls. Or the rising amount of smuggler frequenting the planet. I think those complains go back until the times of the first settlers, though.

* * *

Nothing on the news. Nobody else seems to have noticed anything either. Maybe I am having hallucinations. Who'd wonder? All the heat and then you get mirages and all this stuff. Still, that tends to be on the ground and all about water. And not pathetic fireworks in the sky.

Remembered to clean my droid and oil him well. Got a load of warbling for that. They don't make good pets, do they? And if I ever got a pet, I'd want one that ate sand. Was able to build a small castle in my bed today. Should probably get a wife who'd clean for me or forced me to clean.

* * *

Heard about the Lars' homestead. Pity, they were real nice people. Won't get to talk to them about their new units now. Not sure what will happen to them. The units, I mean. The Lars' will be buried, or at least what was left of them.

Young Luke is missing, the Empire is real concerned. If we see him anywhere we're to let them know. Also we're to be extra wary because of the Sand People now. I wonder what provoked the attack. They're usually quiet. But who knows what provoked them. And Luke was always whizzing around places he shouldn't. I hope he's alright.

* * *

Talked to Dak about the wedding, but he said the date will stay. Mostly because Bryenne will kill anybody who disagrees with her. Got the presents and flavoured the moonshine. It looks pretty, too, rather pink. We'll have the normal stuff for the stag night. Considered colouring it black as a sign of commiseration but decided against it. It would look too much like machine oil.

* * *

Attended the funeral. Seems they have enough relatives around who will take care of things. Unfortunately, they are moisture farmers as well, so an auction of the equipment is unlikely. Not that I could afford anything right now.

* * *

Got message from the tax office that everything is dandy with my tax declaration. One thing at least. Not that I'll get anything back. Still, Ty said they'll have to pay some extra. They had that put away for getting a new unit for their southern borders. Too bad, because that was a real promising spot right there.

* * *

Went to Toshe Station for cables and adapters, got some power converters on a bargain. Some local kid ordered them but never collected them. Their funeral. Asked about a translation device for my water evaporators. Fixer said the Lars had just bought a protocol droid for that. Will keep my eyes open if it turns up somewhere. Jawas can salvage gear from the worst burnt places.

* * *

The farmers founded a militia to protect ourselves against the Sand People. I think those have been quieter than us lately. But there's no reasoning with those in fear. Didn't join and got told they won't protect my farm then. I wonder what the Empire is thinking of this.

* * *

Had sand in my breakfast. Patrolled the units and cleaned them all. Found more sand than I cared for. At least it's getting warmer again. I can soon put the extra blanket back onto the shelf again. (To gather more sand.) Swept the whole place and made sure the presents were still nicely wrapped and not just buried under sand.

* * *

Seems some lads in the militia got their heads a little big and went of on a preemptive strike. Killed some Sand People, too, if you believe them. This won't end well. There's still dark tales around from the last time a guy killed Sand People. And he wiped out a whole clan, or that's the story. Not that I believe it because there were a lot of Sand People killing farmers in the aftermath.

* * *

So far no response from the Sand People. With some luck the lads are just exaggerating and all they killed was their curiosity. And maybe a womp rat or two. Not a pity about that. Still, they did bring home trophies. And last I heard the Sand People didn't throw stuff away. We'll see.

* * *

Managed to get in the harvest. Nothing to shout about but it will keep me going for the season. Did not go off to buy myself a treat because the evaporator on the southern slope is acting up. My reward for the work will likely be some new transformator for that stinker. Will control it on the next patrol and see what I'll have to invest. Maybe I can upgrade it at the same time.

* * *

Yay for weddings. Had a great night out in Mos Eisley with Dak and gang. Poor sod is to be married tomorrow. But, hey. We got all wasted in the cantina and then we found that there's a place for alien strip. No joking. The things we saw! Boggle the mind and also did not turn me on any. I seem to be human-sexual.

Dak forbade me to drive home, actually he forbade all of us and we crashed a hotel, if you can call this hole a hotel. Hole-tel more like. They have bugs the size of womp rats. But after a few more drinks we stopped caring. Guess, I fell asleep on the floor, too.

* * *

Man, hangovers are killer. I never felt so bad in my life. And that was just the start. This is hands down the worst day in my life so far. And I might not survive it because the wedding present for Dak and Bryenne burnt with the rest of my farm.

Force, I owe that guy my life! Had I gone back yesterday, I'd be steak now, or charcoal. The Sand People raided a few homesteads on the fringe in retribution for the lads killing some of theirs. This will end in tears. Not that I will live to see it if Bryenne finds out the present is gone. She has been really looking forward to getting her own vibro jack-knife.

* * *

Survived the wedding by creating a voucher for said knife from the burnt scraps of my home. At least Bryenne is appeased now. The other farmers not so much; they are talking war. This is certainly going to be a nasty place to live in the coming time. Got me a room in Mos Eisley which is not a solution, but can't move in with anybody right now. Certainly not Dak though he offered.

* * *

Seems there is no demand for moisture farmers around here. The Sand People hit some more farms. Now there is more farmers than farms and not really any land to build new farms on. Everybody is scared to live too close to the enraged Sand People. Me included. Times could be better.

* * *

Checking out my chances off-planet. Wanted to go to Alderaan, but was told the planet doesn't exist anymore. Didn't know that was a possibility. Maybe they're just arseholes with their immigration politics. Most of it was too cold anyway. Need more information about planets with a moderate climate like this. Who closed down the library here, I wonder. If we ever had one.


	2. Chapter 2

All this militia talk is not for me. I want to live in peace. So off-planet it will have to be. The farmers are no happy with the Sand People and vice versa. Still, both are only considering more violence. Well, let them, but without me. I'll just get myself hired on the next big ship leaving from here.

* * *

What did I say about big ships? Maybe I should have researched that first. They are definitely not leaving from here. Smaller ships come and go all the time, but usually the captains and sparse crew are not very open towards people. And hiring – you can forget about that. The two usual answers are 'can't even feed the people I have' and 'sod off.'

Maybe there actually more smugglers touching down here than other people. Come to think of it, what would other people want here? Looking at my homeplanet objectively, it has nothing much to offer. There's sand, but there is only so much of that people can stand, even natives. Then there is, uh, Sand People and Jawas and banthas. And, uh. Yeah.

* * *

Definitely need to leave this place. Apart from my money running out, there are really unsavoury people around. I saw one completely armoured up and he was _not_ Imperial. You can always tell those because they're shiny white. Wonder how they keep the sand off. But that one, he, or she, who can even tell? was wearing green. Looked like a walking armoury. Nope, this is not the planet for me any longer.

* * *

Moved to Bestine but things didn't really improve with that. The only way to get off this dustball is joining the Empire. Great. What I always wanted. I do hope they also train accountants or builders. There is any number of jobs I'd rather have than soldier. Not that you get a choice. For anything that is not soldering you need to go to an academy and those have wicked exams. I haven't looked at a book in ages. What is there in them that helped me doing my job anyway?

I could always ask my friends. If there is anything about moisture farming in a book one of us didn't know, I'll eat my- well, I won't. I don't even own enough stuff any longer that I could afford to eat any of it. Had to sell even my speeder to pay the rent for the horrible room I live in. Still, better than being roasted and breaded in sand outside. At least I can pretend to keep the sand out by sweeping great amounts of it out of my door. That there are still copious amounts left everywhere doesn't matter.

* * *

So there is a rebellion underfoot.

I was contacted by nice young people who asked my why I wanted to join the Empire and didn't I know about the atrocities it committed. They launched into a long speech describing the atrocities in grisly detail. It seems Alderaan did not just change its policies but was indeed wiped out by the Empire. We discussed the physics and consequences of that a little. I mean, who would want to fight somebody who could just explode your planet?

They assured me that the Death Star, silly name for such a horrible weapon if you ask me, had been destroyed. By a native of Tatooine no less, didn't I know? Well, I didn't. Seems young Luke had gotten around instead of fried by Sand People. No wonder the Empire was keen on news about him. Though back then he couldn't have blown up anything yet. Apart from the occasional womp rat, but that is sport, not crime.

I told them that I didn't want to fight at all. All I wanted was to get off the planet that had no job for me but couldn't afford the fare. So the Empire was the last chance. They told me to sit tight and not join the Empire yet. They'd see what they could do. Well, I paid the rent for another week in advance. And if I join the Empire, I can just move into their camp, so I can do that.

* * *

Sitting tight. Sweeping sand out of my room. Upended the mattress and beat some sand out of it. Lots of sand. Everywhere. Swept it out as well. Sat tight again. Boring.

* * *

Still sitting tight. Can't even call anybody on the comm because I can't afford the fees. Feel stuck. Walked around and stared at things. Kicked sand.

* * *

The rebellious boys were there again. Seems that those big ships require more staff then troops. Great. Non-troop. That's me.

So my acquired expertise in removing sand from my units qualifies me to work in maintenance. My shuttle leaves in two days. Not that I have anything to do until then except counting grains of sand and make sure my last clothes don't fall apart on my back.

Oh, and get to know auntie Ell. Yep. New job, new aunt. Okay, not quie. Actually aunt ell did exist and just got kinda lost in space some years ago. I never knew her well and didn't much care.

Well, that is all behind me now. Now aunt Ell has always been my favourite aunt for as long as I can remember. And I will feel a burning desire to keep her up-to-date with my life.

Does that sound like spying to you? To me it does. But caught between soldering and spying, I know what I can do.

Correct! Sweep sand.

* * *

So shuttles don't have windows. Neither does the ship. And does anybody bother to tell me what it looks like? I think not. At least I know where my escape pod is and how an orderly retreat looks like. In theory.

"What did you expect?" Konkers asks. "It's a warship after all."

Well bother. Why can't I just get a nice quiet job an a freighter or something?

"Because you're not posh enough," he let me know.

I am not ragged anymore either, though. The Empire does provide nice clean jumpsuits and some slacks for off duty. I feel respectable again. Not that there's anybody to impress here.

* * *

Still nobody to impress. My roomies are not people I want to impress. There's a plethora of different droids and they're fun to tinker with. But who'd wanna impress those? There's also no sand. Half the time I have no idea what the droids' problems are because there is definitely no sand to be cleaned out of them. But I'm coping. So are they.

Unlike them, I am freezing. They say this crate is conditioned, but to do what, I wonder? It's frigging freezing here. I guess it's all that cold space around us. How nobody ever complains is beyond me.

* * *

I am not sure how to feel about living in a tiny crate with five guys on a bigger crate floating through space. The cramped quarters are starting to grate on my nerves. Not to mention the room doesn't even warm up with all of us present. That doesn't happen often, though as we're usually on different shifts. I guess that is on purpose as well.

I don't get to wear extra layers of clothing though. Konkers says I'll get used to it. I hope so. I hate it. I'd even take back the sand if I get a few degrees more with it.

At least I found out what the ship looks like. I'm travelling on a wedge, a big, fat, frelling space wedge. Had that designer no concept of beauty? Obviously not.

* * *

How frigging huge is this frelling crate? It takes you a whole day to walk from on end to the other and back. I tried. It's a frelling ugly walk and lacks severely in pubs on the way.

In general there's not enough pubs on this space wedge. It's difficult to get a drink after work, you wouldn't believe. Will have to scout for likely locations to set up my distillery again. Don't think that's something I'll tell aunt Ell, though.

* * *

Life gets boring so fast. There's not even sand to move around anymore. The problems of the droids don't change much either. Still looking for a perfect place for my distillery. Can't risk to have it found. Started collecting my gear for that already. Don't want people to notice things went missing.

* * *

Woohoo! Shore leave!

* * *

Whoo. Friggin. Hoo. Whoever chose that planet for shore leave should be forced to live there, like forever. Frigging cold doesn't start to describe it. Frozen water. Everywhere.

Friggin! FROZEN! Water!

No, I don't care t is called snow. And I don't thing skiing is a great idea either. Or sledging. Or snowball fighting. Force, your fingers will literally freeze off!

Only good thing was the mulled wine, even if it was way not enough for my taste. Bother.

* * *

My head.

I want to die.

* * *

In retrospect, with some distance and painkillers attached to it, I don't think mulled wine is such a great idea any more. Not even the 'not enough' of it I had. Project Moonshine is more urgent than ever. At least I managed to buy (yup, the Empire is paying me just fine, thankyouverymuch) some gloves and a scarf and things like that. Too bad regulations forbid me to wear any of that on duty. Oh well, at least I can sleep all warm and snug again now.

* * *

Wrote another long letter to aunt Ell. Ranted happily about my scarf and socks. Maybe the mail actually is screened and somebody will get the hint.

* * *

Nobody took any hints and I'm still freezing my ass off. Not that anybody cares; certainly not my roomies. Even Konkers makes a face whenever it seems I might mention it. Looks like self-pity is the way to go.

* * *

Set up the distillery though the place is not perfect. Also my appetite for fruit has inexplicably gone up drastically. Some of them might have been vegetables. I've never seen half of the foods here before. Not that it matters. Everything tastes the same after distillation. At least on my dearly missed lump of sand it does.

* * *

Force, distilling never took this long back home. Frustrating. I downed the first bit right as soon as it was a mouthful. Quality testing. Has to be done. Cross my heart and hope you die. The stuff tastes different, though. Maybe more vegetables in it than I know of.

* * *

Did I mention already how fast things got boring here? Let me do so again. Boring.

BORING!

* * *

Still boring.

* * *

The variety of droids seemed like endless entertainment when I started. But are they? No. Nopetiy nope nada no. Even reprogramming mouse droids is only so much fun. Mostly because can only program them to do so many things. Bother.

* * *

Firstbatch! Yayoohoowoo!

Roomies like me a lot better now. Also I am not cold anymore. Not able to work either but who cares? Moonshine on! Still, gotta work on the ingredients.


	3. Chapter 3

Aunt Ell is unhappy. Unfortunately, I seem to have written her a long, enthusiastic letter while drunk. Oops.

* * *

Damn all warships. Also damn war.

I have started to sleep with the webbing on. Fell out of the frelling bunk three times in the last weeks because manoeuvring. So webbing it is. It's not really restricting either, except if you move very fast.

Damn Konkers for scaring me awake a few times just to watch the webbing kick in. But it's still better than falling out of bed.

* * *

I was so bored I did some maths.

Ok, moonshine is still in the making. So maths it was.

If I stay in this job and never sopend anything ever, it will take me 15 years to save up enough money to buy me a farm again. It's not that the pay is bad, but you have deductions for accommodation and food and stuff. SO in the end it's not that much any more, respectable, but nothing to shout about.

Also, 15 friggin years.

What am I doping here?

I'll never get home this way or to another respectable place. This must stop.

* * *

Commenced research but moonshine.

* * *

The proportion of work, cold and boredom to moonshine is definitely wrong. But I can't put up another distillery. There is no place I get to regularly and with reason that qualifies. My work area is just wrong. The engines section would be perfect, but it's full of engineers and I bet they have their own little places set up already.

Not that I could get myself relocated into the engines section. Or anywhere useful at all. I looked things up. In my position, no matter where in the Empire I go, I'll earn the same. The only exception is the _Executor_. That's an even bigger space wedge than I'm on already, not to mention flagship of the fleet and personal ship of Darth Vader.

Can you imagine that? Me there?

* * *

Aunt Ell is very understanding about my problems. She encourages me to apply for a job on the _Executor_, flagship or no. Konkers calls me crazy; the roomies don't want to lose the meagre amount of moonshine.

I'm torn. But who say they'll even consider my application?

Still, it'd only take my ten years there.

Choices, choices everywhere nor any drop to drink.

* * *

Writing applications sucks. Why can't I just say' Oi, there; give me that job or else!'?

Now that would make things easier.

* * *

Konkers told me in great big detail why going to the Executor was a bad idea. Mostly it was: 'you will be too close to Darth Vader, it drives everybody mad, you'll be dead within a year.'

I wonder how one Darth Vader can do that to such a huge crew. I mean there must be a million people in there. I've looked at pictures. And how does the ship still fly if everybody has to be replaced once a year. That must cost nicely and I don't think the Empire would stand for it, not even for a Darth Vader.

And anyway, if he's such bad influence, I'm sure the higher ups get to feel that much more. Who'd bother with a grunt in the droid section? I know from here, that actually nobody cares. Unless something goes goink in the droids, that is.

* * *

Managed to get my application together. It looks like crap. What do I have to offer? A few months on here, years as a moisture farmer. Now that's a career.

I miss it.

I want to go back.

* * *

Still missing home. Information about Tatooine is scarce. There's about nothing in the archives and about as much on the holonet. I wonder why that is. It's a great place to live, really.

All the peace and quiet you want. Unless the Sand People have their panties up in a wad.

And the weather is always nice. Unless you're having a sandstorm.

And really nice neighbours and they are _miles_ off!

The only time I can be miles off from my roomies is on my day off and it's a long ugly walk through half the space wedge. Maybe I should have asked if accommodation was better on the _Executor_, too.

* * *

Nothing went seriously goink in any of the droids. So nothing is what keeps happening.

* * *

I wonder if I can send more applications. That would give me something to do in my spare time. Konkers told me read or write a manual. I don't know how to write a manual. Guess, I'll read some first.

* * *

Manuals are boring. They tell you how to correctly handle things. None mention all the fun you can have. Mouse droid battles are fun. And sooner or later they're gonna crash against each other anyway. They're that stupid. So why not let people know how to craft that. It gets programmed by idiots by accident all the time.

Maybe I'll just ask them manual writers about it.

* * *

Konkers says I'm mad. He's given me a book about fruit and vegetables instead so I'd know better what not to put into the moonshine. That's very considerate of him, really.

Looks like the melon I put in there is actually a pumpkin. Also those redberries are tomatoes, very strange. I wonder if you can make moonshine solely of vegetables and what it'd taste like. You'd probably be allowed to drink it, too seeing how it's all vegetables and vitamins. It'd practically be liquid salad.

Konkers says I'm mad he wants no part in that experiment.

* * *

It is not so easy to smuggle vegetables out of the canteens. And it gets many weird looks if I extract the juice from them right there. Maybe I'll have to drop the vegetable liquor experiment after all. Konkers will be happy.

* * *

The mouse driod people replied. They re very unhappy about the idea anybody is using the little critters for entertainment. But they thank me for pointing out a flaw in the design and they will get right to removing it.

Frigg a frog?

This is definitely not what I wanted. I'll have to stack up on old mousebots!

On the up side they awarded me 500 credits for helping. This puts me in quite a fix. Should I look for more flaws and earn money with them, or do I want to keep the entertainment?

Well, today I'll spring a round of moonshine and leave thinking to tomorrow. Or the day after, depending on the hangover.

* * *

The roomies are very understanding about my problem. The shiner the evening got, the better they understood. And then Konkers had the break-through idea: testing. We'd put programming on some droids ourselves and see if we could crash them. Pool informations, split the money. Konkers is brilliant like that. And the one thing we have enough of is droids.

* * *

The things you can make mouse droids do with determination and tinkering. You ain't lived until you saw a mousebot ballet! Unfortunately, that doesn't make anything go boom or crash. Oh well, you can't have everything. I just hope the next generation still has this feature.

* * *

If you're ever in need of boredom, try gonk droids. Fortunately we don't get much of them here. Usually the come in after a mission or some such. They tend to be full of dirt and not so full of power. They make horrible ballet, too.

We decided not to tinker with the volatile systems and anything that means it would possibly fry everything within a five kilometre radius if it really went wrong. Under those parameters they are really boring.

* * *

What do you say about that, I am supposed to report for an (inter)face-to-(inter)face with the guy who does the recruiting for the Executor. Nice. I wonder what he's going to ask and what I should say.

* * *

Maintenance droids now, they are all kinds of fun. You can't go wrong with all those arms and gadgets. Unfortunately, somebody with real programming skills has designed the software on those. It is impossible to get the arms to interlock or do mischief to another part of the droid. Bother. We're not giving up yet, though.

Had my one-on-one and I think it went well. There were many funny questions, like 'Why do you want to work on the _Executor_?' and how I'd behave and stuff like that. They also asked, if I tinkered with the equipment in my off time. Of course I did not say a word about our small venture.

What can I say, they knew about the mousebot incident. So I gave them a nice story how I accidentally made two of them run into each other at work and all that. Seems to have worked. They said they'd get back to me in a week.

* * *

Still tinkering with the maintenance droids. But somehow it looks as if the programming is usually done very thoroughly. Bother. This is much less fun than we though. Even Konkers isn't in it with his heart any more.


End file.
